V 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


CA/s.s-  No. 


With  GompHn?e$ts 
of  the  fiuthor. 


MANY    MOODS 


BY 


WARREN  HOLDEN. 


PHILADELPHIA  I 

PRESS  OF  J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY. 
1895. 


COPYRIGHT,  1894, 

BY 
WARREN  HOLDEN. 


CONTENTS. 


HZ. 


LIFE'S   CHAN<;IN(;    PHASKS.  PAGE 

Memory 9 

Love  at  Sight 10 

Love's  Silent  Ministry n 

The  Beautiful,  the  True 12 

Illusions 13 

Innocence 14 

Evolution  of  the  Yacht 15 

The  Tiger  Hunter 16 

The  Sportsman 17 

Driving 1 8 

Adventure 19 

Solitude 20 

The  Whaleman   .        21 

The  Mule-spinner 22 

Ambition 23 

3 


4  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Disarmament 24 

Patriotism 25 

Aristocracy 26 

Diogenes 27 

The  Medici 28 

Harmony 29 

Stability 30 

Kepose .  31 

The  Inventor 32 

The  Engineer •    •    •    •  33 

Poetry 34 

Art 35 

Music ^6 

Fiction 37 

•    Love  Immortal 38 

Home 39 

EARLY   VERSES. 

Wandering    Alone , 43 

The  Orphan 47 

Niagara 53 

Dramatic  Sketch .60 


CONTENTS. 


5 


AFTER-THOUGHTS.  PAGE 

O  tongue-tied  love,  too  slow,  too  poor  of  speech    ....  67 

Parted !    and  must  I  see  the  face  no  more 68 

Though  veiled  from  outward  sight  thou  art  more  near  .    .  69 

Not  hers  the  gift  to  trace  from  hidden  start 70 

Too  late!    Too  late!     If  only  he  had  known 71 

It  seemed  the  flowers  of  her  garden  knew 72 

If  Mary  or  Martha  were  her  proper  name 73 

From  the  rank  harvest-fields  of  bitter  woe 74 

It  is  the  quiet  Sabbath's  twilight  eve 75 

Still  tugging  at  the  heart  from  yon  dim  shore 76 

Give  me  realities,  the  sceptic  said 77 

Bereavement  finds  no  solace  but  to  weep 78 

Said  Prudence :    Let  us  win  the  wealth  to-day 79 

The  things  you  fancy  real  may  be  so    ...   , 80 

Patient  thou  waitest  for  us  there  above 8 1 

How  dull  and  slow  we  are  to  apprehend 82 

How  fondly  when  a  fellow  Christian  dies 83 

The  heart  still  longs  whate'er  the  lips  may  say 84 

Show  me  the  way  to  heaven,  a  spirit  prayed 85 

Beyond  the  border,  where  the  wicked  cease 86 

Day  after  day  she  filled  her  wonted  place 87 

I* 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Another  peaceful  holy-day  is  o'er     ..........  88 

As  shadows  lengthen  from  the  setting  sun     ......  89 

On  the  world's  stage  what  though  the  role  of  pain  ...  90 

Days,  weeks,  months,  years  are  gliding  swiftly  by   ...  91 

To  pass  away  when  full  of  honored  years  .......  92 

No  more  shall  vain  regret  indulge  the  wrong   .....  93 

"There  is  no  death,"  though  the  wan  spectre,  fear     .    .  94 


THROUGH  FOURSCORE'S  SPECTACLES. 

The   Boat-race—  (Intercollegiate)    ...........  97 

The   Meet  .....................  98 

Gossip     .    ...............  *  ......  99 

Sham  Aristocracy—  (Family,  Wealth,  Sanctity)  .....  100 

The  Practical   Man  .................  101 

The  Great  Money  Lender  .......        ......  102 

Modern  Travel  ............    ,    .....  10^ 

The  Bully  .....'  ................  104 

The  Dude  .....................  105 

Fiction    .........    .    ............  IO6 


Pessimism  .....................  .  107 

Criticism     .    .    .    ,    ......  108 


LIFE'S   CHANGING   PHASES. 


'• 
TJIU7B      IT  7 


MEMORY. 

(ik\v  memory,  boon  companion  this  cold  night, 
While  travellers  belated  face  the  bleak 
North  winds  that,  round  us  howling,  entrance  seek, 
We  hug  the  cosey  fireside  blazing  bright. 

On  by-gone  years  thy  presence  sheds  a  light. 
Of  half-forgotten  scenes  'tis  thine  to  speak, 
Recalling  passages  that  blanch  the  cheek, 
Or  waken  laughter,  mischief-loving  sprite. 

Rehearse  the  tale  of  boyhood's  escapades ; 
The  wild  adventures  of  more  reckless  youth  ; 
The  mad  ambitions  ruling  manhood's  prime 

That  laughs  to  scorn  contentment's  peaceful  shades; 
Hut  dwell  we  most  on  friendship's  loyal  truth, 
And  love,  the  good  supreme,  outlasting  time. 

9 


I0  MANY  MOODS. 


LOVE   AT   SIGHT. 

A  WILD  and  wayward  child  of  liberty, 
His  only  law  immediate  delight ; 
No  bird  was  more  erratic  in  its  flight, 
No  prairie  steed  obeyed  a  will  more  free. 

A  single  glance  decides  his  destiny 

From  eyes  that  speak  in  smiles  of  liquid  light, 
Awaking  looks  responsive  that  unite 
Two  hearts  in  one  for  all  eternity. 

What  earlier  charms  had  touched  the  unripe  breast 
With  that  o'erwhelming  passion  flood  are  blent 
To  swell  its  tide  to  a  life-lasting  stream. 

Seen  through  the  rosy  haze  of  love's  young  dream, 
Nature  looks  gay  in  bridal  garments  dressed, 
And  every  creature  smiles  with  sweet  content. 


LIFE'S   CHANGING   PHASES. 


LOVE'S   SILENT   MINISTRY. 

How  many  a  modest  face  reflects  the  sheen 
Of  perfect  love  !     No  blazing  trump  of  fame 
Needs  loudly  tell  of  love's  immortal  flame. 
It  sheds  a  glory  silent  and  serene. 

Be  sure  thou  keep  the  faultless  mirror  clean ; 
Nor  seek  by  tinsel  ornament  to  claim 
Undue  regard  for  its  surrounding  frame. 
Beauty  when  unadorned  is  fairest  seen. 

Favored  of  God  and  well  beloved  of  men, 
Sweet  human  face,  thine  office  is  divine : 
To  image  goodness  all  unconsciously. 

Beneath  love's  crowning  halo  hid  from  ken, 
I5c  thou  content  with  borrowed  light  to  shine 
For  others'  weal,  though  none  remember  thee. 


12  MANY  MOODS. 


THE    BEAUTIFUL,  THE    TRUE. 

LOVE'S  first  begotten,  beauty,   must  be  true. 
A  child  takes  beauty's  hand,  a  trusted  guide : 
With  charmed  expectance  wending  by  her  side, 
We  humbly  worship  while  we  fondly  woo. 

With  frowning  face  stem  duty  bids:    "Thus  do," 
And,  puffed  up  with  her  own  self-righteous  pride, 
Makes  it  her  chief  delight  to  check  and  chide. 
What  youth  could  frankly  love  the  homely  shrew? 

The  sceptic  intellect,  discreet  and  slow, 

Would  have  us  wait  for  proofs  before  we  dare 
Enjoy  the  gifts  the  gracious  heavens  bestow. 

But  the  warm  heart  is  instant  to  declare 
The  truth  it  doth  intuitively  know ; 
Through  faith's  swift  logic  doubt  dissolves  in  air. 


LIFE'S   CHANGING   PHASES. 


ILLUSIONS. 

IN  life's  bright  morning  when  the  heart  was  young 
And  all   the  wealth  of  love  obeyed  its  will, 
How  far  off  were  the  cares  and  fears  that  kill ; 
How  like  wild  flowers  spontaneous  friendships  sprung. 

Nor  when  by  cruel  wrong  the  heart  was  stung, 
And  shrank  alarmed  at  the  discordant  thrill, 
Could  it  believe  that  friendship  meant  it  ill, 
Hut  to  its  loved  ideal  faithful  clung. 

"Illusions," — croaks  wise  age — "akin  to  youth, 
"On  foolish  fancies  of  the  nursery  fed, 
"Scarce  out  of  leading-strings  as  yet,  forsooth." 

Then  would   I  might  remain  a  child  misled, 
And  never  come  to  know  the  heartless  truth, 
Those  dear  illusions  still  my  daily  bread. 


I4  MANY  MOODS. 


INNOCENCE. 

WATCH  the  spontaneous  motions  of  a  child 

With  love's  discerning  eye,  and  you  may  trace 
The  simple  beauty,  the  unstudied  grace 
Of  native  innocence  still  undefiled. 

Unbidden  fancies,  bird-like  roving  wild, 
In  frolic  freedom  every  moment  chase 
Each  other  o'er  the  quick  responsive  face. 
Care  smoothes  her  brow,  by  sudden  charm  beguiled. 

Unconscious  vehicle  of  love  divine, 

Thou  goest  heedless  of  thy  precious  freight, 
Spilling  its  jewels  all  along  thy  path. 

Would  heaven  that  changeless  childhood  might  be  thine, 
Too  soon,  alas  !    through  some  untoward  fate, 
Thou  mayst  become  a  vessel  filled  with  wrath, 


LIFE'S   CHANGING   PHASES. 


EVOLUTION   OF   THE   YACHT. 

THE  wayward  boy's  ideal  is  to  rove 

The  boundless,   pathless  mystery  of  the  sea, 
From  irksome  discipline  and  duty  free, 
And  subject  only  to  the  law  of  love. 

Loose  morals  leave. wild  fancy  room  to  move, 
As  the  winds  change,   from  trade  to  piracy. 
His  bent  derives  from  Viking  ancestry, 
Who  dared  all  deaths  their  manhood  to  approve. 

As  boyhood's  mountain  billows  slow  subside, 
And  hurricanes  are  lulled  to  summer  breeze, 
The  rover's  bark  evolves  the  pleasure  yacht. 

Over  the  rolling  waters  safe  we  glide, 
Fair- weather  sailors  cruising  at  our  ease, 
The  dangers  of  the  raging  sea  forgot. 


MANY  MOODS. 


THE   TIGER   HUNTER. 

THE  jungle  harbors  hungry  beasts  of  prey 

That  nightly  hunt  their  game ;    nor  turn  aside 
For  human  hunter,  whose  disdainful  pride 
Joins  battle,  savager  the  while  than  they. 

What  fierce  delight, — unawed  Bengal  at  bay, — 
In  single  combat  calmly  to  abide 
The  issue  skill  and  courage  must  decide  ! 
It  is  a  game  for  manliest  men  to  play. 

Wonderful  being  whose  loves  and  passions  range 
Throughout  the  gamut  of  created  life  !— 
^Eolian  harp  of  Spontaneity. 

With  change  of  wind  at  once  thy  tune  doth  change 
From  joy  to  grief,   from  peace  to  deadly  strife ; 
Thou  inverse  counterpart  of  Deity. 


LIFE'S   CHANGING   PHASES. 


THE   SPORTSMAN. 

WHILE  yet  the  dew  is  sparkling  on  the  field, 

Soon  quaffed   for   morning  draught   by  the  early  sun, 
The  cheerful  sportsman,   with  his  dog  and  gun, 
Hastens  to  harvest  what  the  woods  may  yield. 

The  unsuspicious  birds,  whose  fate  is  sealed, 
Make  no  attempt  that  cruel  fate   to  shun, 
Singing  sweet  matins  any  heart  had  won 
Save  hardened  Nimrod's  to  soft  pity  steeled. 

At  night,   returning  home  with  well-filled  pouch, 
The  hunter  needs  must  glory  in  his  art 
If  he  would  sleep  in  peace  upon  his  couch  ; 

Since  he  hath  caused  the  dearest  mates  to  part, 
And  many  a  fledgling  must  unsheltered  crouch; 
And  many  a  nest  conceal  an  aching  heart. 
2* 


MANY  MOODS. 


DRIVING. 

AN  open  road,  clear  sky  and  bracing  air ; 

A  clean-limbed,  spirited,  and  well-matched  team ; 

'Tis  an  exhilarating  joy  supreme 

To  hold  the  reins  and  guide  the  dashing  pair. 

The  varied  beauties  of  the  landscape  fair, 
Like  a  swift-moving  panorama,  seem 
Successive  changes  of  a  vivid  dream 
That  crowds  a  lifetime  in  one  vision  rare. 

Swift  thought  flies  back  to  Rome's  trained  charioteer 
Striving  for  victory  in  the  reckless  race. 
And  as  he  turns  the  goal,   the  deafening  cheer 

Of  the  mad  multitude,  whose  hearts  keep  pace 
With  the  mad  driver,  bursts  upon  the  ear 
Like  Pandemonium  broke  loose  from  its  place. 


LIFE'S   CHANGING  PHASES.  19 


ADVENTURE. 

ADIEU  to  the  dull,  changeless  round  of  home. 
In  the  fresh  strength  of   life's  exultant  prime 
Rove  we  the  boundless  Ocean ;    hark  the  chime 
Of  its  four  winds  while  ploughing  through  its  foam  ! 

Or  dreary  deserts  let  us  choose  to  roam, 
And  dismal,  untrod  forests  hoar  with  time. 
Nor  let  our  venturous  footsteps  fear  to  climb 
The  loftiest  Alp,  and  scale  its  ice-glazed  dome. 

With  waning  years  we  claim  the  chimney  nook ; 
And  gathering  simple  children  round  our  knee, 
Rehearse  the  perils  that  befell  our  youth. 

Or  write  the  marvellous  story  in  a  book 
To  let  the  home-abiding  million  see 
How  far  mere  fiction  falls  below  the  truth. 


20  MANY  MOODS. 


SOLITUDE. 

CONFUSION  of  the  city's  Babel  noise, 

Vain  struggle  betwixt  poverty  and  pride, 
Far  from  your  mean  distractions  let  me  hide, 
Equally  wearied  with  your  cares  and  joys. 

Freed  from  society's  absorbing  toys, 
Amid  the  solemn  desert  let  me  bide ; 
Or  climbing  the  lone  mountain's  arduous  side, 
In  solitude  regain  lost  equipoise. 

Ye  venerable  stars  that  still  pursue 

Yon  paths,  by  human  passion  undisturbed, 
Admit  me  to  your  silent  fellowship, 

That  I  may  learn  the  selfhood  to  subdue, 
And,  vulgar  demonstration  duly  curbed, 
Many  worship  with  a  finger  on  the  lip. 


LIFE'S   CHANGING   PHASES.  21 

THE   WHALEMAN. 

"THERE  she  blows!"     "Where  away?"     "On  the  lea 

bow." 

"Man  the  boats — lower — ship  oars,"  and  off  we  go. 
A  race  to  win  the  pri/e  we  madly  row, 
As  through  the  surging  waves  our  way  we  plow. 

Unship  the  oars ;    use  noiseless  paddles  now, 
Lest  we  alarm  the  monster  moving  slow ; 
Until  the  harpooner  his  iron  throw. 
Small  chance  to  miss  does  that  wide  mark  allow. 

Off  shoots  leviathan  swift  as  a  dart. 

How  the  line  spins  while  flying  from  its  coil  ! 
To  follow  in  his  wake  is  now  our  part, 

Till   he's  quite  spent  beneath  his  freight  of  oil. 

Then  the  mate's  lance,  well  aimed,  may  reach  his  heart, 
And  sixty  barrels  shall  reward  our  toil. 


22  MANY  MOODS. 


THE    MULE-SPINNER. 

TRIPPING  beside  the  homely  spinning-wheel, 
Content  with  methods  of  the  olden  school, 
And  shy  of  new  inventions,  happy  fool, 
The  rustic  maiden  plies  her  task  with  zeal. 

But  the  world  moves,  and  all  the  impulse  feel. 
Our  blithesome  lassie,  turned  a  factory  tool, 
Races  all  day  beside  the  spinning-mule, 
Like  dancing  dervish  in  his  dizzy  reel. 

At  night  shamed-faced  she  steals  to  near  saloon. 
The  hated  stimulant  is  only  sought 
To  keep  the  breaking  heart  awhile  in  tune. 

Thus  day  by  day  is  wasting  strength  o'erwrought, 
Until  the  victim  sinks  at  last  in  swoon 
Beneath  the  wheels  of  modern  Juggernaut. 


LIFE'S   CHANGING   PHASES.  23 


AMBITION. 

BORN  to  command,  Ambition  knows  no  law 
But  dictates  of  an  arbitrary  will, 
Nor  halts  at  any  means  that  may  fulfil 
His  aim  to  conquer  and  to  overcome. 

So  he  but  win  the  popular  huzza, 

And  with  his  name  the  trump  of  fame  sound  shrill, 
What  recks  he  though  a  sea  of  blood  he  spill, 
And  though  the  undying  worm  his  vitals  gnaw. 

Thus  having  gained  a  cold  and  barren  height 
Above  the  reach  of  human  sympathy, 
In  loveless  isolation  he  must  dwell. 

( )r  banished  from  the  outraged  nations'  sight 
To  some  lone  prison  island  of  the  sea, 
There  let  him  rue  his  self-created  hell, 


24  MANY  MOODS. 


DISARMAMENT. 

THE  powers  stand  armed  expectant  of  the  fight. 
If  one  adds  strength,   the  rest  must  quick  increase. 
A  word,  a  gesture,  even,  may  release 
The  fiend  of  war  to  ravage  and  to  blight. 

Claiming  to  battle  only  for  the  right, 

They  ask  what  means  would  make  all  war  to  cease, 
That  'neath  the  fig-tree  and  the  vine  of  peace 
Each  might  pursue  at  ease  his  own  delight. 

Near-sighted  self  sees  but  the  selfish  side, 

Nor  dreams  what  wealth  united  strength  could  win  ; 
But  hoards  a  private  heap  and  tries  to  hide. 

Oh  for  a  touch  divine  to  prove  our  kin, 
Make  all  in  each  and  each  in  all  confide, 
And  bid  God's  Kingdom  on  the  earth  begin. 


LIFE'S   CHANGING   PHASES. 


PATRIOTISM. 

To  fight  for  despots  is  not  patriot  zeal. 
The  soldiers  of  an  arbitrary  power 
Are  slaves,  unless  they  hope  to  haste  the  hour 
Shall  usher  in  true  freedom's  commonweal. 

Yet  liberty  makes  but  a  vain  appeal 
Where  rival  factions  hungrily  devour 
The  very  germ  of  freedom's  tender  flower, 
While  grief  distracts  the  bosoms  of  the  leal, 

Let  heart  and  hand,   let  brain  and  brawn  unite 
In  self-devotion  to  the  common  cause 
( )f  right  for  all  and  privilege  for  none. 

Then  were  a  country  for  which  men  could  fight, 
Though  met  each  step  by  death's  devouring  jaws,- 
Fight  till  the  sacred  height  of  truth  were  won. 


26  MANY  MOODS. 


ARISTOCRACY. 

THE  worthy  sons  of  noble  ancestry 

Alert  to  keep  their  scutcheons  ever  bright, 
Their  heirlooms,  virtues,  gems  of  purest  light ; 
Their  cleanly  lives  from  blot  and  blemish  free; 

These  friends  of  man,  unbribed  by  any  fee, 
Who  freely  give  their  service  in  the  fight 
To  baffle  wrong  and  reenforce  the  right, 
Deserve  the  name  of  aristocracy. 

Whether  they  shine  as  ministers  of  state, 
Conspicuous  leaders  in  the  highest  place ; 
Or,  whether  in  the  closet  they  create 

The  thoughts  that  move  mankind ;    with  equal  grace 
They  serve  their  age,  like  angels  sent  by  fate, 
The  benefactors  of  the  human  race. 


LIFE'S   CHANGING   PHASES.  27 


DIOGENES. 

DIOGENES  sat  basking  in  the  sun, 

Content  to  gaze  on  nature's  quiet  face ; 
He  coveted  no  monarch's  lofty  place ; 
For  fear  or  favor  would  he  bow  to  none. 

Great  Alexander's  course  had  scarce  begun, 
Ere  he  assumed  the  patron's  pert  grimace. 
"Tell  me  what  boon,   of  my  imperial  grace, 
I  shall  bestow  that  may  thy  wish  outrun." 

"I  only  beg  that  thou  wilt  stand  aside, 
And  not  obstruct  my  share  of  heaven's  light," 
So  answrered  sturdy  manhood,  head  erect. 

When  will  heaven's  stewards  learn  to  curb  their  pride. 
Too  prone  to  meddle  with  man's  private  right, 
And  tempt  the  poor  to  barter  self-respect  ? 


28  MANY  MOODS. 


THE   MEDICI. 

THE  Medici  wrought  nobly  long  ago 

As  world-wide  merchant-princes  of  their  age, 

Who  cherished  art  with  royal  patronage. 

Down  the  long  stream  of  time  their  praises  flow. 

Witness  the  grand  career  of  Angelo, 

Whose  works  remain  a  nation's  heritage, — 

Statues  whose  fame  invite  a  pilgrimage ; 

Saint  Peter's  dome  that  greets  the  sun's  first  glow 

Our  modern  Medici  may  lead  the  van 
Of  patrons  of  a  higher  form  of  art, 
The  shapely  moulding  of  the  immortal  mind. 

Out  of  the  rough-hewn  mass  of  formless  man, 
Concealing  beauties  native  to  the  heart, 
Are  sculptured  masterpieces  of  our  kind. 


LIFE'S   CHANGING   PHASES. 


HARMONY. 

O  HUMAN  heart,  thou  harp  of  many  strings, 
Responsive  to  the  tender  touch  of  love, 
Thy  tones  seem  echoes  of  the  choirs  above, 
And  nature's  every  voice  in  concord  sings. 

But  when  rash  passion  its  rude  finger  flings 
Across  the  living  chords,  they  quickly  prove 
That  lurking  discord  lies  in  wait  to  move 
Man's  darker  moods  to  angry  mutterings. 

With  ill-trained  skill  we  try  our  several  parts 
In  eager  effort  to  express  the  soul. 
The  great  world-soul  derides  our  futile  arts. 

Oh  for  a  master  hand  whose  firm  control 
Might  harmonize  the  music  of  our  hearts, 
And  into  one  grand  chorus  blend  the  whole. 


29 


3° 


MANY  MOODS. 


STABILITY. 

MAN'S  law  is  change.     His  works  last  but  a  day. 
His  architecture  crumbles  into  dust. 
Engines  that  served   their  turn  are  gone  to  rust. 
To  modern  schemes  time-honored  use  gives  way. 

Can  art  and  science  boast  a  longer  sway? 
Do  human  rights  and  laws  continue  just? 
Even  hoary  creeds,  perchance,  betray  their  trust. 
Where  can  we  look  for  freedom  from  decay? 

Look  to  the  sky  with  its  eternal  blue ; 
The  tireless  sun  that  daily  does  his  part ; 
The  stars  to  their  fixed  courses  ever  true; 

Mountain  and  sea,  all  forms  of  nature's  art ; 
And  sunset  hour  the  same  yet  ever  new. 
These  treasures  never  fail  the  trusting  heart. 


LIFE'S   CHANGING   PHASES. 


REPOSE. 

WITH  noiseless  step  unruffled  nature  goes. 

With  ease  her  children  reach  their  proper  goal, 
As  seasons  alternate  and  planets  roll. 
With  quiet  power  all  real  progress  flows. 

The  tempest's  rage,  the  earthquake's  frantic  throes, 
The  haste  and  wrath  of  the  impatient  soul, 
Alike  betray  disease  beyond  control. 
Hut  healthy  action  springs  from  deep  repose. 

Restless  ambition  seems  awhile  to  thrive, 
Heaping  up  riches  which  can  never  buy 
The  peace  of  mind  that  underlies  pure  joy. 

lUit   heirs  of  nature  need  not  madly  strive 
For  wants  that  moderate  labor  can  supply, 
While  placid  thoughts  their  tranquil  minds  employ. 


MANY  MOODS. 


THE   INVENTOR. 

WHAT  change  the  new  creator  brings  about ! 
Embodying  thought  in  lever,  screw,  and  wheel, 
He  quickens  enterprise  to  burning  zeal, 
And  puts  the  clans  of  idleness  to  rout. 

Attacking  every  citadel  of  doubt, 
This  bold  intruder  hastens  to  reveal 
What  ignorance  and  prejudice  conceal, 
And  lets  mute  nature's  well-kept  secrets  out. 

As  he  unfolds  new  wonders,  everywhere 

Behold  dumb  forces  in  blind  Samson's  place, 
Emancipating  every  human  slave. 

Our  modern  Hercules,   ordained  to  bear 

The  burdens  that  before  had  crushed  the  race, 
Still  plies  his  task  to  succor  and  to  save. 


LIFES   CHANGING   PHASES.  33 


THE    ENGINEER. 

GIANTS  and  genii,   in  creation's  prime, 
Amused  credulity  with  marvellous  feats 
( )f  engineering  which,   though  naked  cheats, 
Were  true  predictions  of  the  coming  time. 

They  taught  our  daring  engineer  to  climb 
Up  to  the  wonder-working  demons'  seats, 
And  wield  their  weapons  with  a  skill  that  beats 
His  masters,  with  results  indeed  sublime. 

A  flimsy  web  he  sees  the  spider  throw. 

Straight  o'er  the  gulf  an  iron  bridge  he  flings, 
And,   like  a  mole,  a  thoroughfare  he  bores 

For  rapid  transit's  unobstructed  flow. 

Soon  shall  you  see  him  plying  mighty  wings 
In  his  swift  flight  to  far-off  foreign  shores. 


34  MANY  MOODS. 


POETRY. 

DEEM  not  the  poet's  happy  world  a  mere 
Ideal  scene,  an  unsubstantial  dream  ; 
The  music  of  his  rhythm  an  artful  scheme 
To  captivate  a  too  fastidious  ear. 

Is  love  an  empty  dream  ?  and  are  the  dear 

Delights  of  pictured  peace  that  make  the  theme 
Of  all  his  musings  never  what  they  seem, 
Losing  their  glamour  when  the  light  grows  clear? 

The  inner  world  of  mind  and  heart  alone 
Endureth.     Outer  show  may  change  each  day 
In  fickle  fashion's  quick  kaleidoscope ; 

But  poets'  promises  broadcast  are  sown, 
Prolific  seeds  whose  plenteous  harvest  may 
O'erfill  the  measure  of  prophetic  hope. 


LIFE'S   CHANGING   PHASES.  35 


ART. 

THE  artist  would  immortalize  his  theme  ; 
Whether  it  be  the  charm  of  beauty's  smile 
That  from  the  living  canvas  shall  beguile 
Successive  generations  like  a  dream  ; 

Or  whether  he  would  stay  the  dazzling  beam 
Of  sunshine  that  illumines  yonder  isle  ; 
Or  paint  the  patriot  orator's  grand  style 
When  freedom's  holy  passion  reigns  supreme. 

See  the  endurance  pictured  on  that  cross, 

Where  death  assails  the  Life  that  cannot  die,— 
Immortal  guidepost  to  the  promised  land. 

Bless  the  memorial  art  that  saves  from  loss 
The  soul's  expression  when  its  aims  are  high, 
Proving  the  heart's  best  promise  nigh  at  hand. 


.  . 


3 6  MANY  MOODS. 


MUSIC. 

WHAT  saith  the  voice  of  music  to  the  soul, 
Now  speaking  low  in  sweet  persuasive  tone, 
Like  a  young  lover  pleading  for  his  own ; 
Now  choked  with  tears,  refusing  all  control? 

Led  by  the  siren  where  the  sad  waves  roll, 
We  share  humanity's  unending  moan. 
Or  rapt  to  heights  of  bliss  before  unknown, 
Hope  finds  new  life,  her  broken  pledge  made  whole. 

A  common  language,  native  to  the  heart, 
It  needs  no  skilled  interpreter  to  spell 
Its  meaning,  plain  as  speech  of  mating  birds. 

Language  of  love,  all  innocent  of  art, 
Thine  only  is  the  happy  gift  to  tell 
Of  joys  and  griefs  beyond  the  power  of  words. 


LIFE'S   CHANGING   PHASES.  37 


FICTION. 

THE  Sun  as  limner  paints  the  actual  face, 
Whether  its  charms  attract  or  faults  repel. 
Impartial  truth  biography  must  tell, 
If  it  exalt  a  name  or  prove  it  base. 

But  Art,  the  sphere  of  harmony  and  grace, 
Rejects  whatever  weakens  beauty's  spell. 
So  fiction's  hero,  fashioned  to  excel, 
Of  dull  realities  scarce  shows  a  trace. 

With  all  the  spoils  of  time  at  its  command,— 
The  brave  and  free,  the  generous,  the  great, 
The  wise  and  good,  since  history  began,— 

Unfettered  fancy  culls,  with  dainty  hand, 
The  rarest  forms  \vlu-iv\vith  it  may  create 
A  perfect  model,   the  ideal  man. 
4 


3 8  MANY  MOODS. 


LOVE   IMMORTAL. 

WHILE  homeward  faring  at  the  close  of  day, 
A  strain  of  far-off  music  greets  the  ear. 
In  the  faint  tones  the  heart  will  choose  to  hear 
Its  own  dreams  echoed,  making  glad  the  way. 

So  toward  life's  close  a  note  of  some  old  lay 

Has  power  to  bring  the  scenes  of  childhood  near, 
With  all  the   joys  to  early  friendship  dear. 
Alas  !    that  love  should  ever  know  decay. 

Love  cannot  die  !     Its  first-fruits  may  seem  lost. 
Too  eager  youth  may  rue  a  hasty  choice ; 
And  hearts  must  ache  ere  trial  make  them  strong. 

But  love  forever  lives.     Though  sadly  crossed 

At  times,  though  often  choked  with  tears,   its  voice 
Shall  yet  be  heard  in  hymeneal  song. 


LIFE'S   CHANGING   PHASES. 


HOME. 

EACH  morning  man  goes  forth  with  serious  face 
To 'meet  the  duties  of  his  daily  round, 
Whether  in  narrow  circle  he  be  bound 
To  manual  labor's  dusty  commonplace ; 

Or  whether  loftier  ambitions  chase 

The  rarer  game  that  haunts  the  higher  ground. 
If  mid  the  marts  of  trade  his  place  be  found, 
Or  if  he  bear  heaven's  messages  of  grace. 

Calm  evening,  gentle  shepherd,   to  the  fold 
Leads  back  the  weary  one  to  welcome  rest, 
Beneath  a  lowly  roof  or  lordly  dome. 

Shut  to  the  door.     Exclude  the  world's  heart-cold 
Regard.     Let  not  to-morrow's  care  molest. 
For  a  brief  while  enjoy  the  peace  of  home. 


EARLY  VERSES 


WANDERING   ALONE. 

'Tis  a  joy  of  my  life  to  be  wandering  alone 

Through  the   paths  of  the  forest  when  Summer  hath 
flown 

And  Autumn's  feet,  rustle, — un vexed  by  the  throng, 

To  attend  to  the  stillness  revealing  the  song 
Of  many-toned  nature, — the  fingering  breeze 

Attuning  aeolian  harps  in  the  trees ; 

The  choral  of  insects ;    the  orchestral  birds  ; 

The  brooklet  whose  babbling  doth  counterfeit  words ; 
The  far-distant  waterfall's  lingering  drone. 

Let  no  whisper  be  breathed  while   I   listen  alone  ; 

Intruding  society,  break  not  the  charm 
With  your  clamorous  laughter  and  notes  of  alarm  ; 

The  prodigal  passions  have  sunk  into  rest  : 

Dear  angel  of  Peace,  for  a  while  be  my  guest. 

43 


44  MANY  MOODS. 

O  welcome,  ye  woodlands,  in  garments  that  vie 
With  the  many-hued  robe  of  the  sunsetting  sky, 
When  the  year,  at  its  evening  departure,   like  day, 
Takes  its  way  o'er  the  hill-tops  in  Tartan  array. 

Let  me  join  thee,  contemplative  Eve,   in  thy  round 
Over  mountain  and  valley  to  earth's  furthest  bound, 
Surveying  new  landscapes  by  twilight  subdued, 
Till  the  tone  of  each  spot  hath  my  spirit  imbued. 

I'll  return  with  the  morrow,  my  own  chosen  Grove, 
Oh,  believe  not  that  Eve  could  seduce  me  to  rove. 
Your  novitiate  Druid  aspiring  to  be, 
I  frequent  your  seclusions  a  vowed  devotee ; 

Meandering  your  labyrinth  led  by  the  brook, 

While  we  search    for   the   secrets   that    hide    in    each 

nook 
Of  your  hermitage.     Stay,  sweet  companion,  we  drink 

At    this    fountain    that    gushes    through    rocks    at    thy 

brink, 

And  repose  'neath  yon  grotto  with  moss  overgrown. 
Thus  wandering  with  thee  is  not  living  alone. 


WANDERING  ALONE.  45 


To  be  winding  along  by  the  sinuous  shore, 

From  each  new  point  of  view  the  same  scene  to  explore ; 
Multitudinous  billows  that  crowd  to  the  strand 
To  contribute  their  mite  to  the  numberless  sand ; 

In  unending  succession  wave  following  wave 

Lay  their  life  at  your  feet  and  retire  to  their  grave ; 
Far-off  voices,  commingling  in  unison,   roar 
Evermore,  evermore,   from  Eternity's  shore. 

'Tis  a  sobering  joy  thus  to  wander  alone, 

While  there  comes  o'er  the  waters  that  lingering  moan 
Whose  monotone  murmurs  in  sympathy's  ear 
( )f  humanity's  miseries  mournful  to  hear. 

Meditation  unbosoms  her  burdensome  woes, 
And  to  pitying  heaven  our  weariness  shows. 
Breath  of  Life  !  breathe  an  influence  calming  the  storm 
That  relentlessly  preys  on  the  mariner's  form. 

Fount  of  Hope  !   let  thine  oasis  timely  appear 

To  the  pilgrim   who  faints  mid  the  desert  of  fear. 
Light  of  Love  !   be  the  smile  of  thy  countenance  shown 
To  the  outcast  who  wanders  in  darkness  alone. 


46  MANY  MOODS. 

Over  mountains  remote  let  me  wander  alone, 

There    is   life    in    each  tree,  there's   a  voice    in    each 

stone ; 

A  sweeter  companionship  solitude  knows, 
'And  a  sympathy  nearer  than  friendship  bestows. 

Let  the  midnight  of  winter  o'erspread  its  dark  veil, 
Loose  the  winds  to  outpour  their  disconsolate  wail, 
And  with  ruin  to  mark  where  they  trample  a  path : 
Though  I  tremble  with  awe,  yet  I  relish  their  wrath. 

Ye  vehement  Tempests,  give  ear  to  my  vow, 

Record  it,   ye  Lightnings,  on  heaven's  dark  brow ; 
Proclaim  it,  ye  Thunders  as  dreadful  ye  roll ; 
I  love  you,   I  love  you,  ye  friends  of  my  soul ! 

Ye  share  every  feeling,  acknowledge  my  wrong, 
Rejoice  in  my  joy,  and  disdain  not  my  song. 
Indulged  in  each  mood,  like  the  heir  to  a  throne, 
He  that  dvvelleth  with  nature  is  never  alone. 


THE    ORPHAN. 


47 


THE   ORPHAN. 

THE  dream  of  my  childhood  is  fled, 
The  charm  that  so  sweetly  beguiled 
Is  dissolved,  and  the  brightness  it  shed 
Is  quenched  in  the  gloom  of  this  wild. 

I  thought  in  those  innocent  dreams 
The  world  was  a  garden  of  bliss, — 
Full  of  flowers  and  enlivened  with  streams, 
Where  love  could  be  bought  for  a  kiss. 

There  fancy  her  guests  would  invite 
Life's  banquet  and  dance  to  begin ; 
And  we  revelled  with  purest  delight 
Till  a  grim-visagcd  spectre  stalked  in. 

• 


x 
III  XT  I 


48  MANY  MOODS. 

Forth  he  stretches  his  palsying  hand 

And  but  touches  fair  promise  to  blight ; 
The  enchanter  but  waves  his  weird  wand, 
Where  but  now  all  was  day  all  is  night. 

I  awoke  to  a  morning  of  cloud ; 
My  fairy-built  fabrics  had  passed, 
And  hopes,  that  late  flourished  so  proud, 
Had  been  crushed  by  the  tramp  of  the  blast. 

Farewell  to  my  infancy's  home ; 
Bereft  of  each  tenderer  tie, 
Life's  desert  an  exile  I  roam, 
And  fain  from  myself   I  would  fly. 

Ah,  hard  is  the  orphan's  lone  fate, 

To  the  world's  cruel  mercies  resigned ; 
On  him  love  and  home  shut  their  gate ; 
He's  an  outcast,  the  sport  of  each  wind. 


THE    ORPHAN. 

How  I  long  for  that  home  once  so  dear 
Where,  begirt  with  life's  holiest  bond, 
I  had  nothing  to  wish  or  to  fear, 
Beloved  by  a  mother  so  fond. 

Oh,  had  I  the  wings  of  a  sigh, 
How  soon  I'd  behold  her  again ; 
How  soon,  at  her  home  in  the  sky, 
In  reunion  forget  every  pain. 

While  shrouded  and  coffined  she  lay, 

I  thought  the  strange  slumber  would  end, 
Till   I  saw,   with  heart-rending  dismay, 
Earth  yearning  to  swallow  my  friend. 

O  my  mother,   in  anguish  I  cried, 

For  what  have  they  torn  thee  from  me  ? 
Would  heaven  thou  never  hadst  died, 
Or  that  I  might  be  buried   with  thee. 
5 


49 


MANY  MOODS. 

Blighted  hope  cast  its  buds  in  her  grave 
One  by  one  with  the  clods  as  they  fell ; 
Naught  survived  but  the  cypress  to  wave 
O'er  the  spot,  my  sad  story  to  tell. 

Oft  I  sat  'neath  its  desolate  shade 
And  watered  its  roots  with  my  tears  ; 
Musing  still  on  the  griefs  it  displayed, 
As  still  with  its  growth  grew  my  fears. 

Like  the  harp  that  is  played  by  the  air, 
Which  so  sweetly  responds  to  the  breeze, 
But  shrieks  like  a  soul  in  despair, 
If  winter's  cold  hand  on  it  seize ; 

It  is  thus  with  the  harp  of  the  heart. 

While  love  breathes  along  its  soft  strings, 

A  music  more  sweet  they  impart 

Than  the  song  which  the  nightingale  sings. 


THE    ORPHAN.  51 

O'er  those  heart-strings  to  harmony  tuned, 
Let  but  sorrow's  rude  fingers  be  flung, 
And  discord  bewails  at  the  wound, 
While  each  nerve  of  the  soul  is  unstrung. 

Forsaken  by  man  and  by  God, 
Unarmed  for  mortality's  strife, 
Thus  weary  and  faint  as  I  trod 
The  thorn-planted  pathway  of  life, 

Seemed  to  issue  this  voice  from  the  tomb  : 
''My  forlorn  one,  my  child,  come  to  me; 
Death  is  kind  ;    Oh,  regret  not  thy  doom, 
My  bosom  thy  pillow  shall  be." 

Dear  mother,  thy  voice  glads  mine  ears ; 
Runs  thine  orphan  to  meet  thy  embrace ; 
In  thy  bosom  to  bury  his  tears, 
And  never  again  miss  thy  face. 


52 


MANY  MOODS. 

Adieu  to  this  world's  gloomy  vale, 

I'll  make  her  cold  grave  my  death-bed. 
Stingless  death,  vanquished  grave,  bid  ye  hail ! 
There  is  rest,  there  is  peace  with  the  dead. 


NIAGARA. 


53 


NIAGARA. 

A  PILGRIM  to  thy  shrine,  Niagara, 
I  heard  afar  thy  sullen  voice,  deep-mouthed 
Like  mutterings  of  some  fateful  oracle. 
Still  as  the  fascination  drew  me  on, 
The  stunning  uproar  swelled  upon  my  ear, 
With  such  continuous  and  o'erwhelming  power, 
As  drowned  all  thought  or  feeling  rational. 
Pale  fear  took  hold  on  me  and  shook  my  heart, 
But  with  returning  confidence,  returns 
A  loftier  mood,  fit  for  such  lofty  theme ; 
When  mingling  gradual  with  my  listening  thoughts 
Softens  its  terrors,  till  at  length  it  comes 
Like  music — music  that  hath  meaning  in  it. 
Ye  intermeddling  passions,   peace.     Be  still, 
Intruding  thought,  and  let  my  inmost  soul 
Drink  in  the  strain  that  pours  melodious 
From  yonder  organ-loft  of  nature's  fane. 
5* 


54  MANY  MOODS. 

Inspiring  music,  oft  in  dreams,  methinks, 
Thy  solemn  tones  have  come  to  me  betimes, 
As  angels  ministrant  of  mild  reproof, 
Though  awe  attend  thy  deep,  stern  eloquence. 
Then  have  I  wept  and  promised  to  repent ; 
And  waking  I  have  cherished  the  dread  peal, 
Till  it  became  a  well-remembered  voice 
To  soothe  and  cheer  me  in  my  lonely  hours. 
We  are  not  strangers.     Oft  have  we  communed 
The  whiles  thou  didst  discourse  of  things  eternal. 
E'en  now,  as  in  a  waking  dream,  thou  hold'st 
Fast  locked  my  senses  that  they  dare  not  stir, 
Lest  they  disturb  the  awful  charm  that  reigns 
In  the  deep  silence  which  thou  dost  impose  ; 
And  I  should  lose  one  note  of  that  high  song 
Which  human  discord  cannot  interrupt. 

O  sacred  minstrelsy,  enchant  me  still ; 

And  mingle  with  earth's  thousand  other  hymns 

To  magnify  the  skill  that  pitched  thy  pipes 


NIAGARA.  55 

To  loftiest  symphonies.     Servant  of  God, 

The  sermon  thou  dost  preach  hath  reached  my  heart. 

The  seed  which  thou  dost  scatter  with  thy  spray, 

Shall  spring  to  full  fruition  in  my  soul, 

And  shall  bring  forth  the  blessed  fruits  of  peace. 

For  though  thy  rostrum  be  the  naked  rock, 

And  the  vexed  elements  fit  audience 

Of  thy  rude  ministry,   thou'rt  yet  to  me 

True  harbinger  of  peace.     Thy  voice,   long  heard, 

Becomes  familiar  as  a  mother's  voice, 

That  whispers  peace ;   and  I  could  lay  me  down 

Amid  thy  din  and  calmly  fall  asleep, 

E'en  as  a  child  soothed  by  a  lullaby. 

What  apparition  from  the  spirit  land 
Dilates  my  startled  sense  with  grand  surprise! 
I  saw  thee  in  the  distance  like  a  cloud, 
But  not  intently  could  peruse  thy  form. 
The  eye  was  then  subservient  to  the  ear, 
That  would  admit  no  partner  in  her  joys, 


56  MANY  MOODS. 

Thus  the  rich  melody  possessed  me  whole. 

But  now  on  near  approach,  and  looking  up, 

As  wakened  from  a  dream,  I  see — I  see 

What  laboring  words  would  vainly  strive  to  paint. 

A  flood  thou  seemest,  coming  in  thy  might 

Again  to  overwhelm  the  guilty  world, 

(As  taught  in  parable  of  Noe's  time,) 

And,   for  a  moment,  weak  in  faith,  we  doubt 

The  promise,  till  we  look  upon  thy  brow 

Where  God  hath  set  His  rainbow  for  a  token. 

Hail,  bow  of  promise,  never  more  shall  flood 

Of  falsehood's  turbid  waters  drown  the  earth 

In  one  wide  deluge,  suffocating  good. 

Hail,  bow  of  promise,  from  henceforth  the  floods 

Shall  symbol  only  plenteousness  of  truth, 

Whose  fountains,  erewhile  sealed,  now  broken  up, 

Do  leap  forth  joyous  in  their  liberty, 

And  spread  their  healing  waters  everywhere ; 


NIAGARA.  57 

And  purge  away  the  accumulated  dust 

That  hath  disguised  the  real  forms  of  things, 

And  show  them  as  they  are,  or  good  or  ill. 

Oh  ever  haunt  my  mind,   tho.u  vision  bright, 

Impress  thine  image  on  my  glowing  brain 

With  spiritual  seal  indelible  ; 

That  frequent  fancy  may  contemplate  thee, 

Eternity  upon  time's  canvas  drawn. 

There  art  thou  as  thou  hast  been  from  of  old, 

In  undiminished  beauty  and  full  strength, 

Retaining  all  the  freshness  of  thy  youth. 

Time  groweth  old  ;    thy  twin-born  rocks  decay, 

And  crumbling  piecemeal  drop  into  their  graves, 

• 

Dug  by  thy  feet,  receding  with  slow  step, 
Whose  each  enduring  track  marks  centuries. 
r.ut  thou  remainest,   yesterday,  to-day, 
Perhaps  forevermore  the  same,  unchanged, 
Worthy  thine  origin,  and  His  fit  type. 
On  that  majestic  forehead  calmness  dwells 


58  MANY  MOODS. 

While  at  thy  feet  tempest  and  whirlpool  rage,  * 

A  vast  abyss  of  power  beyond  control. 

Call  it  Omnipotence  in  miniature, 

If  such  resemblance  traced  offend  Him  not, 

Who  did  perhaps  conceive  the  high  design 

As  a  remembrancer  to  thoughtless  man. 


Stupendous  fountain,  I  could  worship  thee, 
But  that  I  know  thy  greater  Fountain  head 
The  Wellspring  of  all  life,  whence  we  came  out, 
And  whither  we  return. 


Perennial  Source, 

In  such  least  rills  from  thy  Infinity, 
As  in  a  broken  mirror,  parts  of  Thee 
Are  seen  obscurely.     What  art  Thou  entire? — 
In  Thy  unveiled  Originality? 
In  vain  imagination  plumes  her  wings, 
Such  height  sublime  she  may  not  hope  to  reach. 


NIAGARA.  59 

O  my  purged  bosom ;    O  my  lifted  soul ; 

My  bosom  purged  as  with  yon  waters  pure, 

And  lifted  from  the  mire  of  selfishness 

My  soul,  till  self  appear  absorbed  in  God ; 

Once  having  seen,  once  having  heard  and  felt 

The  almost  manifested  Deity, 

Canst  thou  again  descend  to  grovelling  thoughts? 

Canst  thou  return  again  as  the  washed  swine 

Unto  her  wallowing?     It  cannot  be, 

While  memory  survives  she  shall  hold  up 

Before  thy  view  this  emblem  of  thy  Lord ; 

The  undying  echo  of  this  seven-fold  trump 

Accompanying  thee  forevermore 

Shall  urge  thee  on  to  deeds  approved  of  heaven. 


60  MANY  MOODS. 


DRAMATIC    SKETCH. 

DRAMATIS    PERSONS. 

GRABBED  FARMER,  owner  of  the  grotinds  where  the  scene  lies.  ] 
WHIMSICAL  STUDENT,  seeking-  recreation. 

SCENE. — A  wood  near  a  stream. 
Enter  FARMER  and  STUDENT  from  opposite  sides. 

Farmer.   What  are  you  doing  here  upon  my  grounds? 
Who  may  you  be  ? 

Student.  None  other  than  I  seem, 

Thus  fancy  led  o'er  nature's  free  domain. 
Anon  I  go  to  bathe  in  yonder  stream. 
Hast  ought  to  object? 

Far.  Leave,  or  I'll  sue  for  trespass. 

I'll  have  no  bathing  on  my  premises. 

Stu.    Father,   forgive  our  trespasses;    for  man    . 
Will  sue  on  at  the  law,  and  take  his  purse ; 
Nay,  take  his  God-given  birthright,   liberty. 
Hast  speculation,  clown  ?     Seeing  this  stream, 


DRAMATIC  SKETCH.  61 

Canst  thoii  tell  whence  it  came,  and  whither  goes — 

Its  ebb  and  flow — relations  numberless? 

Know'st  thou  'tis  but  a  vein  of  earth's  great  body, 

Returning  laden  to  the  earth's  great  heart, 

Whence  it  came  forth?    Know'st  thou  that  mighty  heart, 

Its  tidal  pulses — systole,  diastole  ? 

Hast  thou  considered  the  arterial  clouds 

Which  bear  the  foodful  rains  o'er  every  land, — 

The  nutrient  life-blood  of  the  teeming  earth  ? 

Hast  traced  the  capillary  veins  minute, 

Tapping  deep  wells  to  fill  the  hill-side  springs, 

That  feed  this  circulating  stream  which  is 

Articular  to  the  vast  living  whole, 

Upon  whose  face  thou  feedest  vermin-like? 

Dwells  logic  in  thy  brain?     Are  the  clouds  thine? 

Is  the  great  ocean  thine  ? 

Far.  You  say  big  words 

And  look  so  wise  to  frighten  me,   perhaps  ; 
But  I've  seen  owls  in  the  woods,  and  heard  them  hoot. 
The  stream  is  mine.     You  shall  not  bathe  in  it. 

6 


62  MANY  MOODS. 

Stu.    Thou  liest  utterly.     It  is  God's  stream. 
He  pours  it  from  His  mountain  urn  for  all, — 
For  me  to  lave  my  wearied  limbs  therein. 
Meandering,  it  carries  health  and  joy 
To  distant  lands.     Yet  thou  darest  call  it  thine. 
Canst  gather  it  ?     Canst  store  it  in  thy  barn  ? 
Thy  stream  !     Hence,   or  I'll  fling  thee  in  thy  stream, 
And  make  thee  food  for  the  indignant  fishes 
Which  thou  wouldst  fain  forbid  to  swim  thy  stream. 
Begone,  or  ere  I  make  thee  swallow  it ; 
For  with  a  touch  of  this  magician's  wand, 
I  will  transform  thee  to  a  monstrous  swine, 
Thy  just  shape  which  thou  wearest  in  thy  heart, 
And  thou  shalt  wallow  in  thy  stream,  and  drink, 
Yea,  drink  it  as  it  flows,  with  thirst  unquenched, 
While  ever  and  anon  thou  gruntest  "Mine." 

Exit  CLOWN,  looking  back  with  apprehension. 

Stu.   (solus.)    How    He    that    sitteth    in    the    heavens 
must  smile 


DRAMATIC  SKETCH.  63 

To  hear  earth's  little  Landlords  utter  "Mine/" 

To  hear  them  mouth  it  in  such  pompous  style. 

Appropriation  is  their  highest  skill. 

They  would  even  reap  the  stars  which  God  hath  sown, 

And  call  the  rainbow  theirs  if  it  but  rest 

Its  glorious  limb  on  their  potato  patch. 

Written  in   1844. 


AFTER-THOUGHTS. 


6* 


L 

O  TONGUE-TIED  love,  too  slow,   too  poor  of  speech, 
What  wealth  of  meaning  hast  them  left  unsaid  : 
What  longing  looks  all  blindly  left  unread 
Until  the  well-beloved  is  out  of  reach  ! 

And  though  love's  intuition  lend  to  each 
A  clew  whereby  he  cannot  be  misled, 
How  oft  the  opportunity  is  fled 
Ere  willing  hand  can  do  what  heart  may  teach  ! 

Surcharged  regret,  thy  self-reproach  forbear. 
Couldst  wish  love's  every  duty  fully  done, 
No  further  use  for  fond  affection's  care? 

On  short-lived  earth  the  work  is  scarce  begun : 
And  bounteous  heaven  hath  endless  days  to  spare 
For  service  to  thy  best-beloved  one. 

67 


68  MANY  MOODS. 


II. 

PARTED  !    and  must  I  see  the  face  no  more 

Whose  smile  first  wakened  longings  in  my  breast, 
And  all  through  life  with  constant  sunshine  blest? 
But  now  'tis  hid  by  heaven's  exclusive  door. 

Nay,  say  not  parted  :    only  gone  before 
To  seek  the  mansion  of  our  final  rest, 
Bespeak  a  welcome  for  the  coming  guest, 
And  then  await  thee  on  the  wishful  shore. 

Some  duties  still  amid  earth's  busy  marts  ; 
For  dear  ones  still  some  needful  ministry ; 
Then,  weary  world,  receive  my  last  adieu. 

With  youth  renewed,  and  care-disburdened  hearts, 
Together,  hand-in-hand,  we'll  wander  free 
The  fields  of  light  with  vistas  ever  new. 


AFTER-THOUGHTS.  69 


III. 

THOUGH  veiled  from  outward  sight,  thou  art  more  near 
Since  envious  space  hath  ceased  to  intervene, 
And  daily  cares  no  longer  come  between, 
Nor  vague  alarms  distract  with  idle  fear. 

Now  early  hope's  fair  visions  reappear 

Undimmed  by  dusty  time's  care-woven  screen ; 

And  I  again  behold  that  smile  serene 

Where  truth  and  trust  are  mirrored  calm  and  clear. 

Thy  silent  presence  speaks  in  duty's  name, 
And  leads  the  way  that  willing  feet  must  go 
To  find  again  the  home  from  which  we  came. 

And  oft  to  memory's  ear  in  murmurs  low 
Thy  voice  familiar  seems  to  come  the  same ; 
And  widowed  love  the  while  forgets  its  woe. 


7o  MANY  MOODS. 


IV. 

NOT  hers  the  gift  to  trace  from  hidden  start 
The  deep  and  silent  tide-waves  in  the  mind, 
Which  overflow  in  love  to  humankind ; 
Of  Mercy's  Ocean  infinite  a  part. 

Spontaneous  charity  her  only  art, 

To  cheer  the  sick,  the  broken  heart  to  bind. 

Love's  second-sight  infallibly  divined 

The  wants  and  wishes  of  the  yearning  heart. 

Whence  had  this  artless  soul  such  happy  grace? 
Whence  came  the  wisdom  ever  to  refuse 
The  showy  blandishments  of  mere  success? 

Why  seemed  she  to  prefer  the  lower  place? 
Unconsciously  she  first  let  others  choose, 
Her  simple  secret  self- forgetful  ness. 


AFTER-  THOUGHTS. 


V. 

Too  late!    too  late!     If  only  he  had  known 
The  sudden  stroke  prepared  by  cruel  fate, 
He  had  not  raised  the  helpless  cry  "too  late," 
With  the  last  chance  for  reparation  flown. 

A  seasonable  word,  a  gentle  tone 

Perhaps  had  quite  removed  some  crushing  weight, 
That  quelled  at  last  his  uncomplaining  mate, 
And  left  him  leisure  to  repent  alone. 

Procrastination  ever  waits  a  day, 

Intending  full  performance  on  the  morrow, 

When  favoring  circumstance  shall  smooth  the  way. 

Thus  lavishly  the  prodigal  will  borrow, 
And  heap  up  usury  he  cannot  pay, 
Leaving  at  last  a  legacy  of  sorrow. 


72  MANY  MOODS. 


VI. 

IT  seemed  the  flowers  of  her  garden  knew 
The  gentle  hand  that  ministered  to  them, 
And  gave  support  to  every  weaker  stem. 
A  withered  branch,  by  her  if  planted,  grew. 

To  quiet  tastes  and  simple  instincts   true, 
She  chose  not,  for  a  queenly  diadem, 
Colors  that  dazzle,  like  the  gaudy  gem : 
She  loved  the  modest  buds  of  paler  hue. 

Let  friendly  hands  transplant  her  favorite  flowers 
To  deck  the  precincts  of  her  lowly  grave, 
And  ever  bloom  'neath  summer  suns  and  showers. 

Hut  think  not  she  is  there,  a  charnel  slave. 
She's  risen — escaped  this  prison-house  of  ours, 
Her  spirit  safe  returned  to  God  who  gave. 


AFTER-  THOUGHTS. 


73 


VII. 

IF  Mary  or  Martha  were  her  proper  name 
Might  challenge  careful  scrutiny  to  tell ; 
Since  either  character  became  her  well : 
She  filled  each  role  in  turn  with  equal  fame. 

The  ordering  of  her  household  free  from  blame, 
In  peace  and  plenty  causing  all  to  dwell, — 
Amid  much  serving  anxious  to  excel, — 
To  Martha's  homely  virtue  proved  her  claim. 

Yet  none  the  less  she  chose  the  better  part, 
And  meekly  sat  at  the  Redeemer's  feet 
To  learn  the  holy  lessons  of  the  heart. 

The  graduate  of  earth's  best  discipline, 
A  universal  welcome  she  will  meet 
Where'er  unselfish  love  determines  kin. 
7 


74 


MANY  MOODS. 


VIII. 

FROM  the  rank  harvest-fields  of  bitter  woe, 
Though  faith  and  patience  diligently  reap 
Sweet  aftermaths  of  resignation  deep, 
Yet  still  the  sigh  returns,  the  tear  will  flow. 

Retracing  by-gone  paths  as  lone  we  go, 
At  many  a  landmark  sudden  joy  will  leap, 
Till  sudden  recollection  makes  us  weep 
For  lost  delights  we  never  more  may  know. 

Philosophy,  aye,   them  art  very  wise, 
With  self-renunciation's  proverbs  trite 
Ready  poor  erring  mortals  to  advise. 

Yet  simple  nature  will  assert  her  right, 

And  Heaven  shall  hear  the  heart's  unbidden  cries, 
Though  frigid  wisdom  suffer  sore  despite. 


AFTER-  THO  UGHTS.  7  5 


IX. 

IT  is  the  quiet  Sabbath's  twilight  eve. 

I  seem  to  clasp  thy  hand  and  press  thy  side 

While  musing,   in  our  long  life's  eventide, 

On  by-gone  years.     What  memories  they  leave  ! 

Oh  the  lost  hours  !     Could  penitence  retrieve 
Their  opportunities  so  misapplied  ! — 
'Tis  only  my  regret  that  thus  doth  chide  : 
Thou  ne'er  didst  cause  a  kindred  heart  to  grieve. 

Oh  frequent  be  thy  visits,  blessed  shade. 

Yon  happy  seats  will  spare  thee  for  a  while, 
On  such  angelic  mission  sweetly  bent. 

Thy  patient  spirit's  sympathetic  aid 

Shall  help  me  bear  my  burden,  and  beguile 
Life's  tedious  way,  or  fill  it  with  content. 


76  MANY  MOODS. 


X. 

STILL  tugging  at  the  heart  from  yon  dim  shore 
The  tether  firmly  tied  to  loved  and  lost ! 
On  life's  tumultuous  ocean  tempest-tost 
Hope  clings  to  that  sure  anchor  evermore. 

But  wherefore  wait  until  the  voyage  is  o'er? 
The  spirit's  viewless  track  is  nowhere  crossed 
By  time  and  space.     Then  count  no  other  cost 
Than  love  to  bring  the  dear  one  to  thy  door. 

But  where  lies  hid  the  spirit's  trysting-place 
That  meddling  stranger  never  may  intrude, 
Nor  carping  care  disturb  with  anxious  face  ? 

The  secret  chambers  of  the  heart  include 

An  inner  shrine,  where  private  prayer  finds  grace, 
And  there  love's  early  vows  may  be  renewed. 


A  FTER-  THO  UGH  TS.  7  7 


XL 

GIVE  me  realities,   the  sceptic  said, — 

Things  I  can  see  with  eye  and  touch  with  hand. 

Let  visionaries  dream  of  spirit  land, 

And  grope  among  the  phantoms  of  the  dead. 

While  yet  he  spake, there  grew  a  formless  dread: 
Cold  chills  crept  toward  his  heart,  well-nigh  unmanned. 
For  ever  near  a  host  of  spirits  stand, 
And  when  defied  a  grewsome  spell  may  shed. 

Canst  trace  with  outward  eye  the  vivid  thought 
Whose  flash  outstrips  the  lightning's  rapid  glance? 
Can  solid-seeming  earth  love's  form  enclose  ? 

By  hand  of  flesh  and  blood  was  love  e'er  caught? 
Sense  shifts  the  scenes  where  fleeting  shadows  dance. 
Behind  those  scenes  behold  where  substance  glows. 

7* 


78  MANY  MOODS. 


XII. 

BEREAVEMENT  finds  no  solace  but  to  weep 
Over  the  wreck  of  hope's  love-freighted  vase, 
Keeping  long  vigils  at  the  trysting-place, 
Till  wearied  nature  falls  at  last  asleep. 

Then  suddenly  from  out  the  darkness  leap 
Into  full  life  familiar  form  and  face, 
With  outstretched  arms  to  meet  the  warm  embrace ; 
And  love  once  more  may  peaceful  Sabbath  keep. 

O  blessed  sleep  that  weavest  happy  dreams 
To  make  amends  for  sorrow's  waking  hours, 
How  welcome  art  thou  to  the  wounded  breast ! 

If  mimic  death  can  show  such  bright  foregleams, 
What  must  we  hope  with  after-life's  full  powers 
In  play,  mid  Edens  of  eternal  rest. 


AFTER-  THO  UGHTS.  7  9 


XIII. 

SAID  Prudence:    Let  us  win  the  wealth  to-day 
For  future  ease ;   nor  spend  before  we  earn. 
Let  love  be  patient ;   everything  in  turn  ; 
No  time  for  soft  words  now,  and  idle  play. 

To-morrow,  cares  of  business  put  away, 

The  heart's  affairs  shall  be  our  chief  concern. 
An  altar-fire  on  home's  hearth-stone  shall  burn, 
And  Love,  the  priestess,  there  shall  watch  and  pray. 

Day  followed  night;  men  waked  and  wrought  and  slept. 
Still  Prudence  plodded  on,  with  steadfast  aim, 
No  nearer  to  the  goal.     Thus  while  love  wept, 

O'er-cautious  Prudence  wronged  its  own  fair  name, 
Cheating  itself  with  promises  half  kept ; 
And  that  delayed  to-morrow  never  came. 


8o  MANY  MOODS. 


XIV. 

THE  things  you  fancy  real  may  be  so. 

Your  fondly  cherished  hopes  may  bloom  in  act. 

Such  golden  promises  may  well  attract, 

'But  what  we  have  not  seen  we  cannot  know. 

Enough  that's  certain  meets  us  as  we  go. 
The  joy  of  plenty  is  a  present  fact ; 
Gaunt  famine's  ghost  still  haunts  us  who  have  lacked  ; 
But  future  good  or  ill  what  seer  can  show? 

Has  the  Agnostic  no  warm  heart  to  feel? 
No  eyes  but  nature's  faulty  telescopes? 
No  ears  to  hear  love's  voiceless  melodies? 

Be  still,  and  finer  senses  will  reveal 
An  inner  world  of  unimagined  hopes 
Whose  bounds  are  unexplored  eternities. 


AFTER-  T//0  UGH  TS.  8 1 


XV. 

PATIKNT  thou  waitest  for  us  there  above. 

Death  had  no  power  to  change  thy  native  worth. 
Thou  art  the  same  that  lately  dwelt  on  earth 
Absorbed  in  labors  of  unselfish  love. 

There  runs  a  rumor  that  such  raptures  move 
The  souls  that  revel  in  their  second  birth, 
They  needs  forget  a  lost  companion's  dearth. 
Believe  it  not.     No  true  heart  can  approve. 

While  hindered  in  the  service  she  loves  best,— 
Devotion  to  all  offices  humane, — 
Think  you  she  cares  to  sit  among  the  blest  ? 

Angelic  joys  shall  woo  that  heart  in  vain  : 
She  cannot  sink  into  eternal  rest 
Till  she  infolds  her  dearest  cares  again. 


82  MANY  MOODS. 


XVI. 

How  dull  and  slow  we  are  to  apprehend 
The  mystery  of  death  !     But  yesterday 
A  guest  was  with  us.     Now  a  clod  of  clay 
Awaits  the  grave  with  other  clay  to  blend. 

To-morrow  we  shall  look  for  our  lost  friend, 
As  if  bewildered  at  his  long  delay ; 
Till  urgent  use  resumes  its  wonted  sway. 
But  can  the  heart  accept  this  as  the  end? 

Whence  springs  the  hope  of  immortality? 

Things  seen  and  heard  and  handled  fail  to  prove 
What  the  vast  future  has  in  store  to  give. 

'Tis  the  prophetic  heart  whose  faith  can  see 
That  none  shall  perish  who  are  kin  to  love, 
And  while  God  lives,  His  child  perforce  must  live. 


AFTER-  THO  UGHTS.  83 


XVII. 

How  fondly,  when  a  fellow  Christian  dies, 
\Ve  feign  that  all  his  hapless  troubles  cease, 
Turmoil  exchanged  for  the  perennial  peace 
Of  dwellers  in  the  mansions  of  the  skies. 

The  Preacher  saith :    Where  the  tree  falls  it  lies. 
Of  surface  stains  the  soul  may  wash  its  fleece 
In  Lethe's  flood  ;    but  ingrained  traits  increase, 
And  show  their  native  hue  without  disguise. 

Is  death  a  conjurer  who  wields  a  wand 

To  change  the  leopard's  spots,   the  Ethiop's  skin? 
A  character  not  earned  no  power  can  give. 

Manhood  dwells  here  and  casts  no  wish  beyond, 
Nor  looks  abroad  for  light  that  shines  within  ; 
Made  fit  to  die  by  proving  fit  to  live. 


84  MANY  MOODS. 


XVIII. 

THE  heart  still  longs  whate'er  the  lips  may  say. 
Despite  Philosophy's  heroic  air, 
The  bosom  feels  a  pang  of  deep  despair 
That  words  of  wisdom  never  can  allay. 

Go  where  he  will  she  still  seems  far  away. 
To  wistful  eyes  that  vainly  seek  her  there, 
The  landscape's  laughing  light,  however  fair 
To  others,  comes  with  cold  and  dismal  ray. 

O  tedious  time,  when  will  thy  weary  task 
Be  done,  and  thy  tired  slave  obtain  release, 
That  he  may  swiftly  seek  the  silent  shore  ? 

When  will  dull  space  remove  the  envious  mask 
That  hides  from  vie\v  the  inner  realms  of  peace, 
Where  he  may  find  the  lost,   to  part  no  more? 


AFTER-  THO  UGHTS.  85 


XIX. 

SHOW  me  the  way  to  heaven,  a  spirit  prayed, 
And  wandered  wide  with  a  distracted  air, 
Like  a  lost  traveller  in  deep  despair, 
Seeking  the  path  from  which  his  feet  have  strayed 

My  daily  offerings  on  her  altars  laid, 

The  church's  vows  I  kept  with  anxious  care, 
Nor  did  my  hand  her  charities  forbear ; 
Yet  now  I  seem  most  cruelly  betrayed. 

Poor  wanderer,  know  that  heaven  is  not  a  place 
That  one  may  enter  in  and  be  at  rest. 
Earth  life  alone  is  bound  by  time  and  space. 

Heaven  dwells  within  the  pure  unselfish  breast 

That  yearns  to  share  the  bounteous  gifts  of  grace. 
Where  love  is,  there  alone  reside  the  blest. 
8 


86  MANY  MOODS. 


XX. 

BEYOND  the  river,  where  the  wicked  cease 
From  troubling,  and  the  weary  are  at  rest, 
When  safe  arrived  and  quit  of  life's  vain  quest, 
Claimest  thou  a  sure  reward  of  perfect  peace? 

I  tell  thee,  nay.     Except  with  due  increase 
Thy  talent  be  returned,  no  welcome  guest 
Shalt  thou  sit  down  to  feast  among  the  blest. 
In  outer  darkness  hope  must  wait  release. 

Wouldst  thou  be  perfect  ?     Yield  each  selfish  aim  : 
Go  follow  Christ  to  Hades'   prisoned  horde, 
And  help  Him  minister  to  grim  despair. 

When  all  God's  prodigals  come  home  to  share 
The  bounties  of  a  common  Father's  board, 
Then  mayst  thou  ask  thy  portion  free  from  blame. 


A  FTER-  THO  UGH  TS.  8  7 


XXI. 

DAY  after  day  she  filled  her  wonted  place 
So  quietly ;    her  presence  was  a  thing 
So  common,  we  forgot  that  time's  swift  wing 
Was  hurrying  onward,  soon  to  hide  that  face. 

Some  plea  of  business,  some  delusive  chase 

Of  phantom  fortune,  that  should  quickly  bring 
Leisure  to  bask  in  home's  perennial  Spring, 
Was  ever  stealing  from  our  day  of  grace. 

Now  she  is  gone  beyond  the  utmost  reach 
Of  mortal  ken  ;  and  past  beyond  recall 
Are  the  mistakes  the  heart  would  fain  unlive. 

Could  aught  restore  that  gift  of  gentle  speech, 
That  smile  whose  meaning  was  good  will  to  all, 
What  would  not  fond  affection  freely  give. 


MANY  MOODS. 


XXII. 

ANOTHER  peaceful  holy-day  is  o'er. 

While  gazing  on  the  slowly  fading  west 
At  close  of  each  returning  day  of  rest, 
I  miss  thy  quiet  presence  more  and  more. 

Each  day  grows  lonelier  than  the  day  before, 
Each  night  a  deeper  sadness  is  confest. 
Is  there  no  balm  to  soothe  the  homesick  breast 
Till  heaven  vouchsafe  our  union  to  restore  ? 

Welcome  the  daily  task  that  may  suffice 

To  drug  remembrance  for  a  moment's  space, 
And  with  a  short  oblivion  cheat  the  heart. 

At  every  lull  in  sorrow's  storm  of  sighs 

Hope  leaps  up  toward  the  joy  it  would  embrace,- 
The  joy  of  meeting  never  more  to  part. 


A  FTER-  THO  UGIITS.  89 


XXIII. 

As  shadows  lengthen  from  the  setting  sun, 
The  eyes  of  languid  labor  westward  go. 
The  kindling  glory  seems  but  meant  to  show 
The  weary  working-day  is  almost  done. 

The  things  of  time  and  space  have  now  begun 
To  lose  the  spendor  of  their  noontide  glow. 
Life's  interest  flags;    its  step  becomes  more  slow, 
Not  loath  to  find  the  race  so  nearly  run. 

Beyond  the  sunset  looms  another  land. 

The  bright  mirage  reveals  a  peaceful  shore 
Inviting  wayworn  pilgrims  to  its  strand. 

Thither  our  dearest  hopes  have  gone  before ; 

And  side  by  side  with  them  we  soon  shall  stand, 
( )ur  place  of  rest  secure  forever  more. 
8* 


9o  MANY  MOODS. 


XXIV. 

ON  the  world's  stage  what  though  the  role  of  pain 
With  tragic  mien  usurp  the  part  of  pleasure ; 
Since  neither  joy  nor  sorrow  forms  the  measure 
Of  an  immortal  spirit's  loss  and  gain? 

What  though  ambition  for  a  time  obtain 
Possession  of  the  world,  with  ample  leisure 
To  drain  its  sensuous  cup  and  waste  its  treasure 
In  idle  pomp  ?     The  victory  how  vain  ! 

World  of  pure  spirit,  void  of  sham,  beside 
Thine  awful  verities,  the  shameless  choice 
Of  place  o'er  honor ;    the  unseemly  strife 

For  strict  precedence,  with  unbounded  pride, 
How  puerile  !     Man's  multitudinous  voice 
How  hushed  in  presence  of  eternal  life  ! 


AFTER-  THOUGHTS. 


XXV. 

DAYS,  weeks,  months,   years  are  gliding  swiftly  by. 
Each  moment  makes  the  interval  more  brief 
That  forms  the  gulf  between  us  and  our  chief 
Desire, — to  reunite  love's  broken  tie. 

The  smile  of  hope  succeeds  the  long-drawn  sigh. 
After  a  weary  night  of  sleepless  grief 
The  cheering  dawn  of  morning  brings  relief, 
With  promise  that  the  day  is  drawing  nigh. 

The  bane  of  pleasure  that  it  ends  so  soon  ; 
That  life  is  short,  its  blessings  insecure ; 
Tinctures  our  earthly  cup  with  bitterness. 

Eternal  Goodness,  thy  divinest  boon 

Is  certain  tenure,  love  that  must  endure, 
A  good  that  greater  groweth,   never  less. 


92  MANY  MOODS. 


XXVI. 

To  pass  away  when  full  of  honored  years, 

While  yet  life's  holiest  works  the  hands  engage, 

And  ere  the  weakness  of  decrepit  age 

Weighs  down  the  heart  with  anxious  cares  and  fears ; 

Crowned  with  the  gracious  thoughts  of  loved  compeers, 
Whose  earnest  prayers  and  ardent  hopes  presage 
A  glorious  future  on  a  wider  stage ; 
Is  this  a  plea  to  sanction  bitter  tears? 

If  nature  still  must  weep,  be  it  for  joy 

That  grateful  tears  relieve  the  swelling  breast, — 
Joy  that  a  soul  hath  shunned  the  dark  decoy 

Of  worldly  lusts,  and  through  the  crucial  test 
Of  fiery  trial  purged  of  earth's  alloy, 
Hath  entered  pure  upon  eternal  rest. 


AFTER-  THOUGHTS. 


93 


XXVII. 

No  more  shall  vain  regret  indulge  the  wrong 
Of  fancying  pictures  of  what  might  have  been, 
Condemning  mere  mistake  as  mortal  sin, 
And  unavailing  penitence  prolong. 

Peace  to  the  buried  Past.     The  heart  made  strong 
In  sorrow's  patient  school  of  discipline, 
Awaits  the  welcome  signal  to  begin 
To  tune  anew  love's  hymeneal  song. 

Again  I  see  the  apparition  fair 

That  first  I  saw  in  the  long,  long  ago, — 

An  angel's  smile  ''descending  heaven's  stair." 

Again  life's  brightest  scenes  in  rapture  glow, 
And  dainty  choice  no  memories  will  share 
Save  those  where  harmonies  of  love  o'erflow. 


94  MANY  MOODS. 


XXVIII. 


"THERE  is  no  death;"    though  the  wan  spectre,  fear, 
Still  haunt  our  firesides  with  its  evil  eye, 
Disturbing  peace  with  the  pernicious  lie 
That  aught  can  loose  the  ties  which  make   life  dear. 

Though  human  life  at  times  so  frail  appear, 
'Tis  born  of  God,  and  therefore  cannot  die. 
Anon  aspiring  to  its  native  sky, 
It  rends  the  veil  which  hides  that  inner  sphere. 

Since  life  is  love,  it  ever  must  increase  ; 
Its  large  desires  are  never  satisfied  ; 
It  craves  exhaustless  treasures  to  disburse. 

At  each  new  heaven  exchanging  gifts  of  peace, 
Its  bounteous  empire  ever  grows  more  wide, 
Till  love  inherits  the  whole  universe. 


THROUGH   FOURSCORE'S 
SPECTACLES. 


THE   BOAT-RACE— (INTERCOLLEGIATE). 

STRIPPED  for  the  race  each  .promptly  mans  his  oar 
And  waits  the  signal  for  an  even  start. 
Like  arrows  from  a  bow  they  swiftly  dart, 
Leaving  a  foaming  wake  to  mark  their  score. 

They  strain  each  nerve  and  muscle  more  and  more 
Till  strength  and  skill  have  fairly  done  their  part. 
The  victors  reach  the  goal  with  panting  heart 
While  beauty's  kerchief  hails  them  from  the  shore. 

What  training  modern  colleges  afford  ! 
What  eager  strife  to  be  the  laureate 
In  either  noble  game  of  manly  sport ! 

The  graduate's  diploma  should  record 

A  trained  athlete,   his  badge  an  oar  and  bat. 
Mere  scholarship — leave  to  the  tamer  sort. 

9  97 


98  MANY  MOODS. 


THE    MEET. 

THE  stirring  bugle  summons  to  the  chase. 

Youth  mounts  his  hunter  with  ancestral  pride, 
And  beauty,  smiling  sweetly  at  his  side, 
Sits  her  gay  palfrey  with  a  queenly  grace. 

Over  the  heathery  hills  at  break-neck  pace 
The  merry  hunters  follow  in  reckless  ride 
After  the  panting  game  that  fain  would  hide 
Its  head, — poor  struggler  in  a  hopeless  race. 

With  kind  papa  to  find  the  needful  dollar, 

And  dear  mamma  to  spend  it  without  measure, 
Their  only  care  to  dress  in  time  for  dinner; 

Beauty  and  youth  may  slip  hard  training's  collar, 
And  dance  through  life  the  pets  of  idle  pleasure. 
Will  heaven  be  strict  with  good  society's  sinner? 


THROUGH  FOURSCORE'S  SPECTACLES. 


GOSSIP. 

WHAT'S  in  the  wind?     Who'll  tell  us  something  new? 
Although  far-fetched,   nor  easy  to  believe, 
"I 'will  serve  the  purpose  of  a  short  reprieve 
From  drear  ennui,   that  makes  one  feel  so  blue. 

What  though  the  story  be  not  strictly  true? 
Some  harmless  fiction  in  the  web  to  weave 
Brightens  the  color,   nor  will  long  deceive ; 
To-morrow's  rumor's  sure  to  change  the  hue. 

Take  measure  of  the  gossip's  empty  head, 
Or  in  the  balance  weigh  his  hollow  heart ; 
Both  are  found  wanting,  shallow,   insincere. 

To  all  the  best  affections  wholly  dead 
The  gossip  shares  no  love,  but  only  fear, 
I  )eserving  victim  of  his  vulgar  art. 


ioo  MANY  MOODS. 


SHAM   ARISTOCRACY— (FAMILY,  WEALTH,  SANCTITY). 

MY  great-grandfather  was  a  gentleman. 

With  vulgar  work  his  hands  were  never  soiled. 
To  serve  his  daily  needs  another  toiled. 
And   I'm  my  father's  father's  father's  son. 

To  me,  whose  wealth  a  drudging  parent  won, 
Exclusive  doors  have  oped  when  rightly  oiled, 
At  touch  of  golden  wand  has  pride  uncoiled. 
And  while  the  money  lasts  I  yield  to  none. 

"  Stand  by  thyself:    I'm  holier  than  thou." 
So  spake  the  Pharisee's  self-righteous  pride, 
And  looked  above  for  heaven's  approving  smile. 

Love  surely  leads  the  Trinity ;    else  how 
Could  Power  and  Wisdom  patiently  abide 
Presumptuous  folly's  loftiness  of  style. 


THROUGH  FOURSCORE'S  SPECTACLES. 


THE    PRACTICAL    MAN. 

P)K  practical  if  you  would  soon  succeed. 
\Ved  policy  for  better  or  for  worse. 
She'll  teach  you  to  "put  money  in  your  purse;' 
And  that  is  being  practical  indeed. 

Though  spendthrifts  call  economy  mere  greed, 
Be  prompt  to  gather,  backward  to  disburse. 
To  usual  perquisites  be  not  averse, 
And  bend  to  circumstances  at  your  need. 

Strict  honesty  is  quite  unpractical. 

The  business  man  must  not  be  over-nice ; 
More  than  well  pays  is  serving  men  for  naught. 

True  policy  is  strictly  tactical. 

Commodity  or  man  each  has  its  price ; 
And  heaven  itself,  some  fancy,  may  be  bought. 
9* 


102  MANY  MOODS. 


THE   GREAT    MONEY   LENDER. 

THE  money  king  is  lord  of  other  kings. 
His  is  the  hidden  power  behind  the  throne 
Which  ministers  of  state  are  forced  to  own, 
Since  he  to  lagging  enterprise  lends  wings. 

To  his  retreat  a  threatening  war-cloud  brings 
The  Powers,  each  to  negotiate  a  loan. 
His  aid  or  let  may  hasten  or  postpone 
A  general  crash  of  sublunary  things. 

What  rare  delight,  what  triumph  thus  to  feel 
Himself  the  arbiter  of  fate's  decree, 
From  whose  decision  there  is  no  appeal ; 

Among  the  nations  quite  a  deity, 

Dispensing  fear  and  favor,  woe  and  weal. 
Make  haste,  deliver  us,  O  Bellamy. 


THROUGH  FOURSCORE'S  SPECTACLES.        103 


MODERN   TRAVEL. 

TRAVELLERS  do  Europe  now  in  sixty  days, 
In  squads  by  contract,  paying  in  advance. 
Viewed  simply  as  a  question  of  finance, 
The  personally  conducted  grand  tour  pays. 

Of  rare  art-treasures,  characters,  and  ways 
Of  course  one  can't  note  every  circumstance, 
Though  quick  wit  takes  in  much  at  one  swift  glance', 
Where  leisure  pauses  long  with  lingering  gaze. 

When  asked  of  the  peculiar  traits  of  race ; 
Wrhat  new  ideas  foreign  manners  teach, 
They  tell  of  cost,   naming  each  petty  fee ; 

And  ladies  show  some  lovely  bits  of  lace, 
To  prove  that  travel  polishes  the  speech, 
They  let  you  hear  how  they  pronounce  Paris  (Par^). 


104  MANY  MOODS. 


THE   BULLY. 

SIR,   you've  insulted  me.     I'll  teach  you  how 
To  act  in  presence  of  a  personage 
Of  my  position  on  the  social  stage. 
Make  an  apology  right  here  and  now. 

The  quiet  man,  abhorrent  of  a  row 
With  an  obstreperous  bully  in  a  rage, 
And  thinking  only  how  to  disengage 
Himself,  says  soothing  words  and  makes  a  bow. 

You've  seen  a  rooster  strutting ;    heard  him  crow. 
Of  old  triumphant  pride  its  trumpet  blew, 
And  still  fire-eaters  thus  their  bluster  show. 

When  a  dog  barks,  what  should  a  sane  man  do  ? 
Simply  keep  out  of  reach,  and  scarce  bestow 
A  look  upon  the  snarling  bugaboo. 


THROUGH  FOURSCORE'S  SPECTACLES.        105 


THE    DUDE. 

THE  dude  hath  chosen  as  life's  noblest  part 

To  wear  fine  clothing  without  spot  or  wrinkle ; 
Amid  the  plain-dressed  crowd  a  gem  to  twinkle, 
The  consummation  of  the  tailor's  art. 

How  manages  the  dude  to  keep  so  smart, 
As  if  the  clouds  might  hesitate  to  sprinkle 
A  thing  so  prim  and  sleek  and  free  from  crinkle? 
He  gives  the  business  his  whole  mind  and  heart. 

Compare  that  novel  advertising  plan  : 

Sandwiched  between  placards,  young  laughter's  food, 
Note  the  perambulating  show-case  man. 

Free  advertising  is  by  far  more  shrewd. 
And  to  this  end  the  thrifty  tailor  can 
Use  for  a  show-card  the  unconscious  dude. 


106  MANY  MOODS. 


FICTION. 

AT  every  hearth  from  immemorial  time 
The  story-teller  is  a  welcome  guest. 
His  auditors,   with  never-failing  zest, 
Drink  in  the  marvellous  tale  from  foreign  clime. 

Details  of  daring  deed  and  horrid  crime, 
Prodigious  feat  and  unrefining  jest, 
Fit  to  inflame  the  boy's  susceptive  breast, 
Sell  in  one  volume  for  a  single  dime. 

To  please  the  children  of  a  larger  growth, 
The  modern  novelist  ransacks  his  brain 
To  find  a  caricature  of  God's  creation. 

New  forms  of  woe  to  invent  he's  nothing  loath, 
As  if  the  actual  world  lacked  real  pain, 
And  life  worth  living  were  pure  affectation. 


THROUGH  FOURSCORE'S  SPECTACLES.        IOy 


PESSIMISM. 

I  TOLD  you  so.     What  was  there  to  prevent, 
With  uncurbed  passion  rampant  from  the  first, 
Ready  at  any  moment  to  outburst 
In  the  direction  where  'twas  closest  pent? 

Life's  a  haphazard  game  of  discontent. 
You're  always  safe  to  prophesy  the  worst, 
Where  every  one  with  selfishness  is  curst, 
Each  pushing  for  his  own  aggrandizement. 

Thus  the  poor  pessimist,   in  his  pretence 

That  wrong  and  rapine  thrive  on  every  hand, 
Condemns  himself  to  make  his  censure  true. 

But  take  him  at  his  word,  and  no  offence 

Could  rouse  him  more.      "I'll   have  you  understand, 
Pert  fellow,   I  am  quite  as  good  as  you." 


io8  MANY  MOODS. 


CRITICISM. 

WHO  is  the  author  ?     Has  he  any  friends 

To  back  him?     None.     Then  instantly  let  fly 

The  keenest  shafts  of  ridicule  and  sly 

Insinuation.     A  new  name  pretends 

To  take  the  world  by  storm,  and  boldly  sends 

His  challenge  without  leave  obtained  of  high 

Authority.     Shove  the  intruder  by. 

We'll  hear  no  more  of  him.     His  meddling  ends. 

"But  have  you  read  his  book?"     Needless  delay: 
Its  drift  is  obvious  at  a  hasty  glance. 
We  keep  set  phrases  ready  for  such  cases 
Without  the  loss  of  labor  thrown  away. 
Allow  these  parvenus  the  smallest  chance, 
They'll  crowd  our  favorites  from  their  easy  places. 


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